April in Paris Need I Say More

I am not sure who’s more excited Ann, the kids or me. There are few places in the world capable of conjuring an entire imaginary book than the phrase “April in Paris.” Just say it to yourself….No really just say it, pause for a few moments and sense it…! Do you feel the wisp of “spring like” hope? Can you sense the 1000’s of unforgettable characters in books and movies throughout the century’s right up to Professor Langdon in Dan Brown’s DaVinci Code, characters who trolloped thru the streets of Paris or made great escapes along the Seine River on horseback or by a Mercedes convertible coup. It is a city filled with a feeling of “Isn’t it great to be a Parisian, if only for a day a week or a month?” Who cares about strikes and workers that hold managers hostage if they don’t get what they want? We want to relish the baguettes that are still hot and the café that gives you an unfettered view to the latest in the fashion world walking down the street. Is that man wearing a chapeau with a silk ascot or as Eamon would say, “Really?” Imagine his surprise when his mother says “You’ll see a lot of that in Paris.”

The van ride from the Charles de Gaulle airport is excruciatingly long. Not because the traffic is difficult but because the kids expected the Eiffel tower to be visible from Switzerland. Pearse just asked over and over “Where’s the Eiffel Tower?” I guess it would have bothered me like the dreaded vacation phrase “Are we there yet?” from the backseat but this is Paris so stuff just doesn’t bother you as much. What did Mr. Brownlow, our 20th Century European History teacher call it, “laissez faire” or something like that I think. It isn’t a great political or economic strategy but it sure as hell makes for a stress free vacation.

The white nondescript Renault passenger van makes “THE turn” and before our eyes stands the massive stone arch that is the Arc de Triomphe. In the days to come the boys will learn all about its height, breath and history but for now, through the windshield they see the most famous stretch of cobblestone and blacktop, the Champs Elysees. The youthful energy in the van is both surprising and welcome as the hustle and bustle of the street life edges right up to the windowed van. Pearse preens and cranes his neck unsatisfied until he finally shouts “There it is at 2:00!” Eamon and Christian think it’s a beautiful girl because that is their game “11:00 O’clock, 6:00 O’clock, 3:00 O’clock” They seem surprised when I yelled 10:00 letting them know that I am both “on to their game” and that I am “married not dead.” Pearse is so proud that he saw the Eiffel Tower first!

We pull up to 32 Rue Saint Guillaume our home for the next 4 weeks. Come on, doesn’t that street address just sound like Cary Grant or Audrey Hepburn should live here? It is in the 7th district and a great neighborhood. It is an Internet find so we hope for the best, open the door and pray that the facade is representative of the building behind it not like one of those Universal Studio movie sets all "show and no go". As the door to the Parisian apartment opens we breathe a sigh of relief and drop our 6 bags, it is remarkable! “How could it not be?” I ask myself we are, after all, living a fantasy.

And so, as we saunter from one street to the next on the first of many evening walks, we cross one of the numerous bridges across the Seine River and in minutes we are standing in the courtyard of the Louvre next to I.M. Pei’s controversial glass pyramid. I ask the lads “So do you like this pyramid or not?” ½ say “yes” and ½ say “no,” I chuckle and say “We’re already Parisians!”